


Two Pink Lines

by atimelyend



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 23:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2247147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atimelyend/pseuds/atimelyend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Sam falling asleep with his newborn on his chest/ Request: SamxReader where the reader finds out she’s pregnant with his baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Pink Lines

There was an extremely uncomfortably silence as the three of you sat around the table. Dean honestly had no idea what was happening, lover’s quarrel he assumed, but he didn’t like it. His eyes darted between the two of you, not looking anywhere but your plates. It was weird. So he shoveled what was left of his breakfast into his mouth and was gone before he was finished chewing.  
You stared at the back of his head as he left. Begging him to come back. To please, please not leave you alone in here with your boyfriend. Normally, you loved the chance to spend time alone with Sam. Being on the road all the time didn’t give you guys a lot of time for just you and now that you had it, you didn’t exactly want it.  
The room was tense. The air thick with words that needed to be said but you’d been avoiding for over a week now. When you realized that your telepathy still needed work and Dean wasn’t coming back, you reluctantly looked over at Sam. Just like you had expected, he was looking at you, worry evident in his expression.  
"Okay, no more excuses, _____. We have to talk about this now." His voice was sweet and coaxing and suddenly you felt guilty for being so distance this week.  
But, your dread of this subject outweighed the guilt and you made a last-ditch attempt to stay away from it. “What are you even worrying a-“  
"I know how to use a calendar,” his voice dropped to a near whisper, “I know this is the second period you’ve missed.” If the matter wasn’t so serious, you would have teased him about being embarrassed by it.  
"All kinds of things can cause a girl to skip one, Sam…" You trailed off, knowing the argument was weak.  
He rolled his eyes. He was having none of it, this had gone on long enough. “Things like what, _____? Like being up all night puking when she thinks her boyfriend is sleeping? Or maybe things like crying over Dean eating the last piece of his own pie?” He paused, taking in your sheepish expression, “Yes. I’ve noticed. Ignoring this is gonna make it any less true. Now, get go get dressed. We’re going to the drug store.”  
You wanted to argue but there was finality in his tone that made you shuffled out of the kitchen and to your bedroom. As you rummage through the clothes scattered over your side of the room you wonder what you’re going to do. You don’t really need to take a test. You know your body well enough to be all but certain it’s true. And, apparently, so does your overly observant boyfriend.  
You slipped off the oversized T-shirt you had worn to bed, one of the boys though you couldn’t remember whose. Standing in front of the full length mirror on the back of the door, you turned to the side. Well, you certainly didn’t look any different. Same size, same shape. But, you couldn’t deny you felt different. You rested a hand on your belly and stared at your reflection, your eyes glazing over in thought. Seriously, what am I going to do? What is Sam going to do? Oh, god, this was not in my plans.  
The door swings open, bringing you back down to earth. Sam stood in the door way, staring down at you holding your stomach with an expression you couldn’t read. You snatched your hand away and busied yourself getting ready. For some reason, you were embarrassed at being caught like that. Finally ready, in your favorite jeans and a haphazard bun, you let Sam guide you out to the car with a particularly gentle hand on your lower back.  
The ride to town was quiet. Usually, silence was uncomfortable you but after the past week or so you were beginning to get used to it. You gazed out the window and tried to count the patches of snow that hadn’t yet melted away. Sam’s large hand covered your knee, rubbing anxious circles with his thumb. You looked down at his fidgeting hand and covered it with both of your own. This is just as nerve racking for him as it is me, you tried to remind yourself.  
Luckily, the drive to the store was a short one and walked in hand in hand. The two of you wandered the store eventually finding the proper aisle. Again, you had to keep from laughing at your Sammy, stooped awkwardly in the ‘feminine care’ aisle of the pharmacy. After much deliberation, you were finally able compromise and convince him that just buying one box of three would be just as effective and much more economical than buying a box of every brand they carried. He didn’t seem fully on board, but he followed behind you dutifully to the register. The elderly woman behind the counter rung you up at an utter snail’s pace, all the while scowling at your ringless hands. Sam was barely finished paying when you snatched the box from the counter and stomped back out to the car.  
The drive back was somehow nowhere near as long as the drive there. Before you knew it, you were headed to the bathroom in a zombie like state, shutting the door in your boyfriend’s face. You did your business and came back out with shaking hands. Sam was on the floor, back against the wall opposite the bathroom. You handed him the stick, noting thankfully that he didn’t look too disgusted. You sat with your forehead resting on your knees and began a mantra in your head. Two lines, lives ruined, one line, a bottle of Jack. Two pink lines-  
Sam interrupted your chant, studying the test hard, “So, what happens when it’s done? Like, if it’s positive will one of these lines turn into a plus?”  
You nearly gave yourself whiplash as your head snapped up to look at him. “One of what lines?!”  
He handed the stick back to you, his face bewildered. Sure enough, there were two bold lines in the little screen. An odd calm washed over you. You got up and tossed the test into the trash in the bathroom. Turning back to Sam you announced casually, “I think that one was broken. Hold on.”  
When you came back out, you had the two remaining tests in your hand. Mimicking your actions from before, you handed them both over. You watched his face as he looked down at them, that strange expression from before on his face again. He swallowed thickly and handed you one of them, clutching the other tightly in his huge fist. “Well, if the last one was broken so are these, babe. You’re pregnant…”  
Pregnant. God, you had been trying not to even think the word. You felt the color drain from your face and panic bubbled in your chest. You looked down at the god forsaken plastic before realizing that you couldn’t read it, your hands were shaking too badly. You weren’t aware that you were hyperventilating until Sam had pulled you into his lap, rocking you and begging you to please, please calm down and breathe.  
You don’t remember much from the rest of that day. You recall somehow ending up in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, only speaking when Sam would prod you awake, asking if you were finally hungry. You stayed in bed the next day, too. And the next. Eventually, at the end of the week, Sam forced you to shower and get in the car. He took you to the doctor and you nodded numbly when the bubbly nurse congratulated you on being 10 weeks. You didn’t hear much past that, only catching bits and pieces of the woman explaining that you couldn’t wait another 10 weeks to come back and that your health was important now.  
The next week went by mostly the same, Sam forcing you to eat several times a day, the time in between was spent with him just holding you and whispering softly to you while you curled away from him.  
At the end of the third week of your waking coma, Dean came home. Sam had forced him out on a solo hunt, refusing to leave you alone. You were vaguely aware of Sam telling you he had to run a few errands, promising you over and over again that he’d be back in no time. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when the bedroom door opened but you knew it hadn’t been long enough for any proper errands. Feeling particularly energetic that day, you rolled lazily see what Sam was doing. Probably, forgot something.  
But, it wasn’t Sam in the doorway. It was Dean. And of course, he was holding pie. You rolled your eyes before turning back to face the wall.  
"Get out of our room, Dean." You own voice sounded strange to you, from lack of use you guessed. You huffed with annoyance as you felt the bed sink under his weight. "Dean, I don’t want any damn pie. Leave me alone."  
"What? This is my pie. I didn’t even offer you any. Rude." You turned back to him, eyeing the crumbs he was scattering all over your sheets. "Anyway. I just came to ask you what the fuck you’re doing…"  
"Excuse me?" How dare he…  
"This is Sammy’s dream. He’s wanted to have that Apple Pie Life for as long as I can remember. This is as close as he’s ever gonna get and you’re being a bitch about it."  
"Are you serious right now, Dean? You don’t know what you’re even talking about! Don’t come in MY room accusing me of being a bitch because I’m not jumping for joy at the thought of bringing a kid into this cluster fuck!"  
"Calm down there, killer. I’m just saying. Sam is half ready to explode with excitement, half worried sick because you’re acting like you’re dead."  
You sat quietly, chewing on his words. “Sam’s excited…?”  
Dean only nodded, mouth full of pie. You stomach gurgled hungrily at the smell of it.  
"He would make a pretty good dad, huh?" Suddenly, you were completely overcome with guilt. You honestly hadn’t thought about how Sam felt since the car ride to the pharmacy weeks ago. This was just as much his affair as it was yours. And he was happy about it.  
Dean watched you carefully as you pondered. You thought about your boyfriend holding what would surely be your giant baby and your mouth twitched in a half smile. You realized this was the first time you had thought about an actual baby growing inside you and not just a problem. It was like a flip was switched and your eyes prickled with tears.  
You ran a hand over your face and looked over at Dean. “Can I have a bite of that?”  
He looked down at his half eaten slice and replied, “Uhhh. Wash your hair and I’ll get your own slice in the kitchen.”  
You tried not to be insulted as you got up and scurried to the bathroom suddenly starving.  
That afternoon, when Sam walked in bunker door and saw you sitting at the table, freshly showered and eating willingly, eagerly even, you thought he was going to cry.  
The next few months flew by. They were full of belly caresses, and parenting books, and nursery painting.  
Winifred Mae Winchester was born October 31st. You had shamelessly named her after the Sanderson sister when she came on Halloween. Besides, Winny Winchester sounded like a story book character. Dean had hated at first but the other night you caught him cooing to “his little WinWin.” You weren’t crazy about the nickname but you were relieved to see him coming around.  
Today, she was a week old. You were tired, yes, but damn if you weren’t happy. Watching Sam with your daughter has got to be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. If you thought you loved him before you don’t even know what this emotion is. You walked into your bedroom holding tiny baby Winny as she fussed in your arms. You smooth her downy soft brown hair and cooed sweetly at her.  
Sam was laying in the bed snoring softly. You convinced him earlier that you would be fine if he finally went to bed. He was exhausted but it was like pulling teeth getting the girl out of his arms. He had been too tired to undress, only managing to get out of his shirt and was now lying on top of the covers, jeans still on.  
You bounced your daughter gently, walking over to his side of the bed, knowing exactly what she wanted. You laid her down on your boyfriend’s chest and almost instantly she was calm. Fortunately, she was nowhere near as big as you had feared and she looked comically small curled up on his long torso. You crawled into your side of the bed and lay down facing the two of them. They were the last thing you saw before you drifted off to sleep and you wondered how you ever thought you didn’t want this.


End file.
